Family
by NittanyLizard
Summary: AJ thought he was on his own. Now, he's not so sure that wasn't a good thing for everybody.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. I am making no profit from this story.

**Chapter 1**

They say that sometimes your past comes rushing back to you in a memory just before you die. Other times, it creeps up and eats at you like a mold until you wake up one day and realize that the only thing left of who you used to be is a rotting shell. And still other times, your past keeps sucking you back into itself like a twister trying to find its path.

For me, though, it was different. My past showed up on a dark street corner one block short of catching the last bus out of Oklahoma City. And it was just like gettin' hit by a freight train.

"Go," whispered a harsh voice from the shadow of the alley.

I waved an impatient hand at the voice. _Christ almighty, you'd think I never did this before._ This was exactly why I was the one out on the street and not in the alley waiting – leave it up to one of those jugheads and we'd lose all our prospects. You couldn't go tearing out there too quick. You had to be patient. You couldn't give them a whole bunch of time to think things over, no more than a quarter block for sure, otherwise they'd get wary and think to go get more help.

I watched the guy approach like he was pretending he knew where he was going. _Great_. Wouldn't be much to take from him. I _told_ them he wasn't a good mark. Anybody who knew better than to drift through the streets like they'd just got dropped off by a spaceship was more'n likely from a place not too much different from ours, nice clothes or not. But the three of them were after blood and booze, and to hell with what the little kid thought.

I sighed. What're you going to do, right? At least the guy was vulnerable, and he probably had at least a little cash on him. He'd missed the last bus out of town, and now he was scrambling to find a place to stay for the night. Didn't look to be scrambling on the outside, but I understood what was going on inside. He knew what kind of place he was in.

He walked with his back straight and tall, and I was finding myself more and more thankful that I was only the decoy. His silhouette showed a sturdy frame held together by nothing but muscle. A boxer, maybe, or a blacksmith. I remembered the guy who used to shoe Gramp's workhorses – arms like the limbs of an ancient oak.

He was passing under the streetlight now, and then back into the darkness that hid me from his view. A few more steps, a few more steps . . .

"Help," I cried, and shot out onto the middle of the sidewalk. "I need help!"

The guy stopped in his tracks, startled but cautious.

_Don't give him time to think. _I took a second to glance around me, as if I hadn't a clue who else besides me was on the street, and allowed my gaze to lock on him. "We need help! My friend, he's hurt."

The guy took a quick look around, but he knew as well as I did there wasn't nobody else around except for five blocks behind him, where the bus station was all but cleared out. I raced up to him and was suddenly wildly glad that I looked more like I was twelve and alone than fourteen and a threat. Not too many people haul off and hit a scared kid without a good reason. "Please, mister, my friend is hurt." I swallowed like I was trying not to cry. "Some guys . . . they come outta nowhere . . ."

"Alright, relax. Show me."

I led him into the alley, so dark you couldn't even make out that the smell was coming from the dumpster at the far end. "Here. He's back here."

The guy slowed down, but I took hold of his forearm and tugged him onward. "Wait," he said, "I can't see a –"

They were all over him then like fire ants on a heifer. Despite how many times I'd done this before, I winced with every grunt as they started beating him to the ground.

Only, he wasn't on the ground yet. This was taking longer than it usually did, I realized. I backed farther into the alley where I could see them silhouetted against the faint light coming in from the street. He wasn't going down easy, that was for sure.

Sampson let out a squeal and a curse. "Blade! He's got a blade." And then, coward that he was, Sampson took off running out of the alley like a kicked rabbit. I gritted my teeth. Avery would take care of him later.

"Back off."

My attention went back to the guy we were jumping, who now looked to be jumping us. _Shit_. We didn't screw up this bad all that often. See what happens next time I tell them to wait for a different one, the impatient bastards.

Speaking of, Avery and Bill were backing up real slow, away from the knife that guy was waving at them. He knew how to use it, too, I could see that. The two of them looked real quick at each other, and as soon as they did I knew what was happening – it wasn't worth it. _Abort mission. The guy probably don't have much, anyway._ Jesus Christ, they couldn't have just listened to me from the start?

Avery and Bill took off running out of the alley before the guy could get a good enough look at them to take it to the police.

I held my breath and took a step backwards, because it just then occurred to me that Oak-Tree Knife-Man was standing between me and the only way out of the alley. Just go, just take your knife and get on your way before –

He turned around and looked right at me. Or at least, it felt like he was looking right at me. "I know you're still in here," he said in this sweet, gentle, I-want-to-slice-you-up kind of way. "I can wait all night, kid. My next bus don't come till morning."

I took another step backwards and tripped over something that sent me sprawling. By the time I'd landed hard on my backend, the guy had sprung on me like a cat on a mouse. And I had about as much of a chance of getting away from him, but that don't mean I didn't try.

By the time we'd scuffled our way back toward the front of the alley my nose was bleeding and I felt like I'd gotten hit by a truck. Okay, so maybe scuffled isn't the right word, because that would imply that I was making some sort of impact on him. It was more like I was some poor little girl's rag doll getting tossed around by her big brother.

Now I ain't dumb, and I sure as hell like to think I'm not a coward, but right about then it seemed like the smart thing to do would be to dig for the guy's sympathetic side. Everybody's got one. Mostly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry. Don't hit me no more. I'm sorry!"

He didn't loosen his grip. "I'll bet you are. You can tell the fuzz all about it right after they put your lying little thieving ass behind bars."

"No!" God, I would have taken a good beating over the cops any day. I'd managed to keep away from them long enough. Didn't need some do-gooder knife man screwing things up for me. "No, not the cops." We were out on the sidewalk by then. He was holding my right arm in his left hand, and the front of my shirt was balled up in his right fist nice and high and tight so I couldn't slither out of it. "Not the cops. Just beat the shit out of me and be done with it."

And then he stopped under the streetlight he'd dragged me to and looked down at me, and that freight train I was talkin' about earlier came barreling through. All at once, I was eight years old, and my oldest cousin was dropping shells into my daddy's old shotgun and telling me to lay down low so's not to scare away the ducks. The breath I tried to take stopped halfway in, just in time for my heart to start racing like a greyhound, and then all at once my lungs emptied themselves out in one quick gasp. I blinked. "Darry?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. I am making no profit from this story.

**Chapter 2**

I guess the older you get, the less you change, and Darry'd been twenty last time I saw him. There was no question who he was. But I'd only been ten, so I no doubt looked like a stranger to him. I'd blurted out his name, though, and that sure counted for something. He didn't let up none on my shirt, but loosened the painful grip he'd had on my arm.

"Darry?" I repeated, because it was the only word I could manage. To say that I about wanted to cry wasn't far from the truth. When it's been nearly a year since you last saw a familiar face, you don't care none at all that the one you finally happened upon just beat the snot out of you in an alley for mugging him. If he wasn't holding me so tight at nearly arm's length I might have been inclined to hug him.

Darry squinted at me for a second before his eyes widened. "AJ?" he said, like he didn't really believe that was who I was, but when I smiled he said my name out full – "Andrew Jackson Taylor?"

"Hey," I said, because it was the first word that was finally okay with coming out, being so short and all. After that one, though, the rest finally found themselves and spilled out easier. "Mind letting go?"

Darry gave his hand a distracted look like he'd forgotten it was in the middle of restraining me. After a couple of quiet seconds he slowly let his fingers open.

"Thanks."

He shook his head, ran a hand though his hair, and took a closer look at me; only instead of looking surprised that time, he was more like . . . pissed off. And then he laid into me like I was one of his own brothers (which didn't feel to bad, if you want the truth). "AJ, what are you thinking? Out here mugging people, running with thugs; you're smarter than this. What if I'd had a gun? What if I was some crazy person with a gun and I shot you dead?"

"Well, you do got a knife," I pointed out.

Darry shot me a look that shut my mouth real quick. "Where is your grandma? Why aren't you at home? Does she have any idea what kind of friends you're running with?" He was fuming mad, but it was a nice kind of mad to see. It was the kind of mad that makes your granddad give you a hug and take you fishing right after a well-deserved bare-butt whipping. I hadn't seen that kind of mad in a long time.

I gave a little shrug and kicked at a rock near the curb. "They ain't my friends. And Grandma passed on. Over three years ago."

My cousin let out a sigh and wrapped his big hand over my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Yeah. It's okay." I missed Grandma, but the years had took most of the hurt away.

Darry turned me to face him, and I was glad to see he was looking more like he was happy to see me than like he wanted to finish beating the snot out of me. "What happened?"

"Heart attack. Wasn't too many months after, you know . . . your mom and dad. After the funeral. She thought it was her stomach I guess, kept drinking that stupid baking soda crap. I found her the next morning. In the kitchen." I stopped talking when my throat tightened up. Like I said, the years had took away_ most_ of the hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "So who's looking out for you? Where'd they send you?"

I stared at the sidewalk between us. "Aunt Vicki. I was staying with Aunt Vicki."

"Your dad's sister?"

I nodded.

"And what happened? You said _was_. You're not staying with her anymore?"

I looked up at Darry, just as strong and scary and safe as I remembered him – God, he looked so much like Uncle Darrel – and wondered how much I should tell him. Cousin or not, he hadn't been too much better off than me last time we saw each other. And he had two brothers, to boot. I licked my lips, wiped the drying blood out from under my nose, and turned my gaze to the streetlight.

I guess Darry got the message, because he ran his hand from my shoulder to the back of my neck and gave a little squeeze. "Come on. Let's go get something for you to eat."

#

I sat across from my cousin and wondered if he thought a little thing like food would get me talking. If so, then he must've remembered me pretty well. Maybe I could take him off on something else while I figured things out. "So what brings you to Oklahoma City?"

"Nice try. What happened with your aunt? She still looking after you?"

I stuffed some more burger in my mouth so I would have another thirty seconds or so to figure out if I wanted to answer him.

Darry pushed my drink toward me and pulled my plate away. "Now swallow, drink, and talk."

I leaned back and stared out the window. _What the hell, right?_ He was family, for whatever that was worth. And I could always duck out on him and disappear if things went wrong. "Some guy, some vet with half a leg and brains to match, he started coming around last year. She knew him from way back when." I looked at Darry. "He was into some heavy stuff. She followed him like the brainless ditz she was."

Darry swirled the little bitty straw around in his black coffee. "And?"

I looked back to the window, because it was easier to talk to the cars outside than to the person who could either fix things up for me, or throw me to the wolves. "She went out one night and never came back. Word on the street was that she overdosed. But I guess the cops didn't know who she was. Or if they did figure it out, I sure as hell wasn't there waiting for them to haul me off to the courts." I shot Darry a pointed look. "No way in hell was I going to no boys' home. I heard all about the kinds of shit they do to kids my age."

Darry gave a slow nod. "So you're alone? All alone, running the streets with a gang?" If he'd said it like he was accusing me, I might have gotten pissed, but he didn't. It was more like he was summing things up.

"Yeah. I mean, I stay at people's houses sometimes." I'd almost said _friends'_ houses, but that wasn't really true. I wasn't sure I could call any of the people I knew friends.

"How come you didn't try to contact us? Why on earth didn't you call? We're your family, AJ."

I smiled. "Yeah. And I remember how much water that held in the courts when it was just you and Ponyboy and Sodapop. Grandma must have said it a hundred times after your folks died – them boys is only together through the grace of God. I ain't stupid, Darry. I know what would've happened if I'd shown up on your doorstep – you would've handed me a one-way ticket to group-home hell."

Darry took a sip of his coffee. "Fair enough. You were scared. But things are different now. Soda's almost twenty. Ponyboy's in college. I got made shift supervisor last year. Those state people, they know me. They know I made it work."

I sighed and rubbed my finger along the ketchup bottle. "I'll keep that in mind, Darry."

He laughed. "You ain't getting a choice here, kid. No way am I leaving my little cousin out running the streets." His expression got more serious. "My mom and your mom weren't just sisters, AJ. They were best friends. And when your mom . . ." He gave his head a shake. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I leave you to fend for yourself."

The cold waves of fear that had been rolling through me at the thought of being a victim of the state died down a little with my cousin's words. Maybe somebody else, somebody tough and independent, would have told him to stuff it. But truth be told, I hated living on the streets. I hated scraping for food and being cold in winter and getting looked at like I was trash. I could do it, but I hated it, almost as much as I hated the thought of being holed up in a house with a bunch of other guys at the mercy of people who see you as their day job or, worse, as their entertainment.

I looked across the table at Darry and nodded. "Okay. You take over. I'm all yours." _And if you fail, I'll dig myself in so deep you will never find me again._

"Don't worry, kid. I did it once. I can do it again."

"Right." My stomach gave a rumble. "But for now . . . can I have my food back?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. I am making no profit from this story.

**Chapter 3**

Darry stepped through the doorway in front of me. "Just toss your stuff on the couch for now."

I walked into the house and took a second to get my bearings before dumping my ancient suitcase and jacket onto the couch. It wasn't a big place, but it was clean and it looked like home. That might not mean much to most people, but I'd stayed in houses that felt about as homey as a train terminal. "What's the dog's name?" A yellow hound with a swishing happy tail had wandered over and leaned into me.

Darry looked up from the stack of mail he had carried in. "Eden. She's Pony's dog."

I squatted down and got a wet tongue across my face. "Hey, girl." She leaned against me and sank herself onto the floor to get her belly scratched. "You the guard dog?"

"Yeah, right. Don't make any sudden moves, or she'll show you where we keep the spare cash." I laughed, and Darry leaned down to give the dog a few solid pats on her side. "Unless you need anything immediately, I'm going to take a shower. Three days in the same clothes ain't feeling so good."

I wrinkled my nose. "Don't do much for the senses of those around you, neither."

He gave me a look. "Small price to pay for a prize like you, though, right?"

"Damn straight." Darry headed off toward the back of the house, so I followed until we got to the kitchen. It was tiny but, again, it was clean. Can't even tell you how many roaches I've squashed on kitchen counters. Suckers are disgusting.

Now see, I guess most people get all awkward in other people's houses, not sure if they should touch or take or whatever, but I was fortunate enough to have bypassed that sort of instinct. One at a time, I examined the inside of each cabinet before moving on to the refrigerator and the freezer. Didn't look like they kept a big stockpile of food around, but the basics were there. I unwrapped a foil brick that turned out to be a meatloaf, dug out some mustard, and pulled a couple slices of bread out of the bag so I could make a sandwich.

I was just about finished eating when Darry came in with a towel wrapped around his waist. I took a lingering look at his arms. "You have no idea how happy I am that you turned out to be a relation," I told him.

He looked down and flexed one of his arms in front of himself. "Was kind of disappointed, myself. Been too long since I've had a chance to use these for anything but work."

I stopped chewing. "I'll keep that in mind. You want a sandwich?"

"No thanks. I need to head over to work soon, make sure nobody burned the place down while I was gone."

"You guys are back," said a voice right behind me, almost making me drop the last bite of my sandwich.

"I told you he was smart," Darry said, and winked at me.

I turned to see one of my other cousins standing in the kitchen doorway. I was thinking he was Ponyboy, but I hadn't seen them in so long, and he was older. Plus, the two of them looked like each other – him and Sodapop. He was wearing decent pants and a white dress shirt that he'd unbuttoned so I could see the light stains on his white undershirt. Dressed like that, he was probably the one going to college, I figured. He was smaller than Darry, but I was impressed at how solid he looked.

I guess months of analyzing people to figure out who can beat the crap out of you and who can't had become an automatic feature for me.

I held out my hand to shake his. "How's it going?"

"Not bad." He shook my hand and gave me a thoughtful look-over. "You sure did grow up."

I shrugged. "Maybe. I was thinking everybody around me just shrank some." Even their house was smaller than I remembered.

"You done with classes for the day?" Darry asked, confirming my suspicions that this was Ponyboy.

"Yeah."

"Good. I need to get over to the site." He glanced at me.

"I don't need a babysitter," I said.

"So you got the contract with those guys in Oklahoma City," Ponyboy said, ignoring my comment.

"Yeah. Our bid came in way ahead of anybody else's. The job starts in three weeks."

Ponyboy picked the knife off the counter and sliced off a piece of meatloaf. "It'll be getting cold." He broke off another piece and tossed it to Eden, who had been trailing him since he appeared in the doorway.

Darry walked out of the kitchen, but kept talking from the other room. "Yeah. That's why they want us to frame it in by the end of the month – so the inside crews can get started."

I took some bread out of the bag and handed it to Ponyboy.

"Thanks. Did you talk to the school, Dar, or do I need to do that?"

Darry came back into the room with his shirt unbuttoned, his socks draped over his shoulder, and his boots in his hand. "I called from the motel yesterday. We're meeting with Mrs. Ross tomorrow at two. That works for you, right?"

"Yeah, I'm done at one tomorrow. I'll meet you there."

Darry sat down to pull his socks and boots on. "You got dinner covered?"

"Yeah," Ponyboy said from where he was digging around in the refrigerator. "Soda's coming over." He emerged with a stack of wrapped-up stuff.

Darry stood up. "Is he bringing . . . " He trailed off with a wave of his hand.

"Carol," Ponyboy supplied. "Nah. It's a school night." He laughed when Darry smiled. "No, she's got something going on with her family."

"Alright. I'll see you guys later." On his way tromping through the living room, Darry picked up a tool belt from behind a living-room chair.

"Bye," Ponyboy said just as the door slammed shut. He had set everything on the counter and was unwrapping corners and edges to see what was inside. "The girl Soda's seeing is seventeen," he told me. "She's in twelfth grade."

"Ah."

"So everything went okay this morning?"

"Yeah." I picked up the mustard and put it back in the refrigerator, then wrapped the bread up. "Darry said it was more like a formality, meeting with the judge. I guess that Phil guy took care of things from here."

"Yeah, Phil's an okay guy. He got bumped up in Family Services a couple of years ago. Real big on keeping families together, and apparently he took us to be some sort of model of success." He gave a little laugh. "The guy's a little gung-ho, but he took us off the hot burner, so we didn't argue." Ponyboy pulled back one foil cover, made a face, and tossed whatever it was in the trash. "He even had Darry go to some meeting to talk about siblings raising siblings."

"Oh yeah? Did they let you say anything?" I leaned against the counter and picked up one of Ponyboy's mystery packages. "What the hell's this? It's blue."

Ponyboy peeked inside. "From when Soda was here last week. It's okay, he uses food coloring. No, I didn't get to talk. So what do you think – some chicken, some green beans, potatoes, corn . . . sounds like stew tonight."

I gave Ponyboy a pat on the arm. "Long as I ain't cooking, that'll be just fine."

He grinned and raised one eyebrow at me. "I got a paper to write. Who says you ain't cooking?"

#

Sodapop leaned back on the couch and stretched his arms over his head. "No, it was good. Mom used to make chicken soup kind of like that."

"It was stew," I told him.

"You didn't put the flour in, did you?" asked Ponyboy.

I gave him a skeptical look. "I thought you were kidding."

Soda laughed. "Pony's just happy there's finally somebody younger'n him in the house to take all the blame."

Pony, who had one leg stretched out across the couch, kicked at Soda. "Hey, keep quiet. Now he's on to me." He gave me an easy smile. "It was fine, AJ. I'll be able to help you out more next time. I got kinda wrapped up in that paper and lost track of time."

The living room had this warm cozy feel, with just a few mismatched table lamps doing their thing. Looking through the window behind the couch, I could just about see that autumn chill when a sharp breeze whipped some leaves off the tree out front. Remembering what it was like to sometimes not be able to get in from the cold, I shivered.

Darry came in from the dining room and sank into one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace. "You need a blanket or something?"

"No, I'm alright. Just remembering, is all." I curled my legs up against me and settled back further in the chair. "Hey, is there a bus stop near the school?"

Darry squinted at me. "Yeah. Why?"

"I got some family around here somewhere. My dad's relatives – you know, cousins of cousins thrice removed, or some such malarkey. Figured tomorrow'd be a good day to hunt 'em down."


End file.
